The Honeymooners
by DownstairsDaddy
Summary: If all goes well, 8 chapters focused on the Chelsie honeymoon built upon past February prompts, 4 prompts/ chapter. Just like stepping into the water at Brighton, seeking fellow writers' encouragement for my first FanFic.
1. Chapter 1

_Greetings fellow Chelsie fans, and Happy Christmas to you all!_

 _I am a new author, and I have a confession...prior to September 2016, the only time I had EVER watched even a single episode of DA all the way through was New Year's 2016 when friends I was visiting tuned in for 6.1. I really didn't know the characters then, even assuming that "Mrs. Hughes" was married to, or widowed from, a Mr. Hughes. But I quickly understood the basics of a rich family in England with a hot while often curmudgeonly Butler, aka "DownstairsDaddy." A September 2016 Downton Abbey marathon on the local public television station sucked me in. Mind you, I still have yet to watch ANY DA season all the way through, save for speeding through Season 6 on two recent, overseas flights, but I have been a goner for the last few months. I recall it was in the interest of understanding more of the characters' backstory that I first Googled "Carson and Hughes" which led me to FanFiction._

 _Honestly, prior to mid-September, I had no idea this forum even existed – for Chelsie, for Downton, for ANYTHING! And as much as Julian Fellows owns them, it is you all who have brought Chelsie to life for me and kept drawing me in further. I have devoured many, many of your stories and chapters over the months since then. I have come to understand the concept of AUs; how fertile some imaginations can be; and how well some can write smut! There are great talents in this community – I applaud you, I thank you! You have entertained me and inspired me. As thanks, I have opted to try to write and post myself._

 _Given my still unfamiliarity with all the DA details, beyond what I have learned here and Season 6, I'm sure I don't have everything right, and I trust that will be okay as it's more about flexing dormant creative muscles and contributing to this community. I hope it will spur some more Chelsie writing from others!_

 _Like the Downstairs Staff, I work in a profession where details are important, and constraints are a reality. For the first of what may be many contributions, I've constrained myself to the February prompts from years past and writing about the Chelsie honeymoon specifically. And, to get the ball rolling, I've taken all 32 prompts I've found in some stories and compressed them, four to a chapter, for this initial story. No, not in the original order – creative license, yes?_

 _By posting my first story now, I really do hope it is a gift for all of you whose work has gifted me over the last few months. I have the remaining chapters in this first story outlined and with your encouragement, I will finish them and contribute more in time – assuming the Chelsie ship hasn't sailed completely. Chelsie on?_

Chapter 1. Train

In his more than half-century of Service, Charles Carson had a hand in two generations of weddings for members of the Family. To be certain, there wasn't a drop of misconception on either his or Elsie's part that theirs would be a much simpler affair. Simpler, yes; but far from simple. His matter-of-fact proposal, void of any romance, had unleashed all sorts of angst and drama that he hadn't remotely anticipated when he proposed to Elsie weeks before. Foolishly, he had imagined they would simply meet with Mr. Travis, the Banns would subsequently be read the following Sunday and after the requisite waiting period, they would exchange their vows and be done with it.

Who knew she would first fret about whether theirs would be a "full" marriage let alone recruit Mrs. Patmore to fish out the terms he expected. Never had he been so uncomfortable in his life as he was in that conversation once he realized the subject Mrs. Patmore was trying to raise.

Then the debate over the whereabouts of their reception and his being forced onto the tightrope between his beloved Elsie and treasured Lady Mary. Lady Grantham's intervention opened the door for Elsie's heartfelt declaration upstairs. He just blindly had no idea of exactly how many more DECISIONS beyond those there were to be made about – as she had clarified that evening – "Charles Carson and Elsie Hughes and what they want."

Fortunately, they had agreed quite easily on Scarborough as the destination for their honeymoon. While Brighton and Argyll held sentimental value, they seemed too far to travel for only a few shorts days' time. Likewise, both the village of Bath and the promising intrigue of its natural hot springs, and London with all its big city sights, too, would best be saved for other times.

But Scarborough, adjacent to the North Sea, relatively easy to travel to and yet a world away from Downton seemed perfect to the both of them. Further, Charles recalled a former acquaintance, Mr. Catchlove, who had left Service years ago to manage a hotel there. When he phoned the property to enquire about a room, he learned that the older man had recently passed but his nephew was now managing The Chadwick Arms and was delighted to personally see to their arrangements.

And this afternoon, after their glorious wedding, warm and festive reception, here they were on the station platform, BEGINNING their sojourn to Scarborough where they would simply be recognized as Mr. and Mrs. Charles Carson, not the Butler and Housekeeper of Downton Abbey.

In the privacy of the schoolmaster's office at the schoolhouse they had, individually, changed into their travel clothes. In the end, the reception had gone on longer than they had planned and driving back to the Abbey to change would have made for a rushed ride to their train. As it was, their guests were able to see them off, and a short while later, the chauffeur deposited them and their bags at the station.

The train ride to York was the shorter of the two legs and they had a compartment to themselves. Charles had been on many train rides with Elsie over the years but realized as he sat down on the seat beside her, rather than across from her, the reality that the fetching woman with him was not just his travel COMPANION but his wife hit him head on. With that recognition, the brilliant smile so many – beyond Elsie – had only seen for the first times earlier that day reappeared on Charles Carson's handsome face. No sooner had the train made its initial lurch forward than Elsie herself noticed his affectionate grin and asked him teasingly, "What are you smiling at?"

Fixing his brown eyes intently on her brilliant blue ones, he replied, "You, my love," before smiling all the more broadly and reaching down beside his leg for her hand that rested there on the seat between them. Lacing his fingers between hers, he gave her hand a gentle squeeze, which she returned. Letting go only long enough to remove their tickets from his breast pocket and hand them to the conductor, they contentedly enjoyed the remainder of this first journey together as husband and wife, caressing the back of one another's hand with their thumbs, conveying joy and yearning in the process.

At York, they had a 20-minute layover before boarding the train that would terminate at Scarborough Station. Charles went and purchased a bottled lemonade while Elsie waited with their luggage. She was surprised that as short as their visit to Scarborough would be, Charles had packed two pieces of luggage – and her only one.

Charles returned with the lemonade and let her take the first drink through the paper straw. Handing the bottle to him, she noticed that some of her lipstick had stuck to the straw and apologized, suggesting he might prefer to drink from the bottle directly lest the lipstick transfer to his own lips. Looking first at the straw and then quickly around the platform he bent down and whispered in Elsie's ear, "My dear, I don't mind your lipstick making its way onto my lips, though I prefer it happen like this," as he craned his neck, kissing his bride full on the lips. It was a quick but genuine kiss that put a twinkle in Charles's eyes, punctuated with a mischievous wink to his wife as he stood up straight and proud, afterward, tugging gently at his waistcoat.

"Charles Carson, I never –" was all she could say in her astonishment before being drowned out by the conductor's announcement of, "All aboard!" Handing Elsie the lemonade bottle and tickets that had remained in his breast pocket, Charles implored, "Lead on, dear Elsie," proceeding to lift their luggage by the handles, two bags in his right hand, one in his left, before they climbed onboard the train.

Strolling ahead of Charles to their car and eventually their compartment, Elsie kept smiling and shaking her head at the recollection of that very public display of affection her husband had just treated her to. Thereafter, she would always have a soft spot in her heart for platform number 3 at York Station.

Upon finding their compartment, Elsie looked inside and was disappointed to see a young man seated alone and reading a book on the backward facing seat. She looked up at Charles dejectedly and nodded toward the young man. Charles peered in as well but rather than be disappointed, he confidently nodded her in.

"Good afternoon," Elsie said with a half smile.

The young man stood, returning her greeting, "Good afternoon, ma'am, good afternoon to you both," he said, stepping aside to allow Elsie to pass to the window.

Before Elsie was even seated, she heard Charles's deep voice, in a friendlier tone than he typically used to greet interfering strangers. "Young man, my name is Charles Carson. This is my wife. You don't know us and we are unlikely to meet again after this train ride we are now embarking on together. But this is a very special day for us." Gesturing to his own graying hair, Charles explained, "We may not look it, but today is our wedding day. After 20 some years working together in Service, I finally found the courage and sense to ask this beautiful woman to marry me. Our wedding was a few hours ago back home where we live in Downton." Putting down the suitcases to reach into his breast pocket once more, Charles pulled out a small, plain booklet that Elsie did not recognize, opened it quickly and pulled out the remains of a white rose before tucking the notebook away once more. "This was my boutonniere, you see, and we are heading to our honeymoon in Scarborough. Are you headed there as well?"

"Congratulations, Mr. Carson, Mrs. Carson," the young man acknowledged with a wide smile and nod of the head. "No, I am headed only to the stop after next." As he began to sit back down, Charles cleared his throat, stopping the young man's downward progress.

Charles looked at the young man pleadingly, "Begging your pardon, in the interest of a couple of lovebirds starting their life together, one breathtakingly beautiful and the other her ragged mate, might I kindly offer you a pint or whatever you fancy for a drink, in exchange for allowing us the comfort of the compartment to ourselves?"

"Mr. Carson, there is not a bar car on this train, I have already looked!" Noticing Charles's kind and gentle gaze toward Mrs. Carson, the young man, however, quickly added, "though I know the closest pub where I will exit the train! Please enjoy the compartment and congratulations once again." Charles extended a Quid to him but the young man waved it off, shaking his hand instead. With that he made his way past Charles and out of the compartment. Elsie smiled her appreciation as the young man turned out of eyesight.

"Charles, you are full of surprises today," she said, patting the seat beside her. As Charles moved to sit down, Elsie continued, "the kiss on the platform, pressing your boutonniere and bringing it along, sharing those details of us with that nice young man to secure our privacy –"

"We have the compartment to ourselves, but we do not have privacy," Charles clarified. When the conductor had collected their tickets, they settled in comfortably next to one another for the remainder of their journey to Scarborough. Charles even put his arm around Elsie's shoulders, turning slightly toward her and the window. The glass was dirtier than he would prefer and if their journey and the daylight were longer rather than the current approaching SUNSET, he would exit the train at the next station to clean it. Instead, they remained seated together for the remaining 30 minutes of the train ride, Elsie leaning her torso lightly against Charles's left side, her own left hand and wedding ring tucked slightly under his waistcoat, smoothing small circles on his shirt near his beating heart. Feeling her gestures transferred to the skin of his puffed out chest, Charles thought to himself, "my very own travel-size smoothing iron!"


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks for all the feedback on Chapter 1 and encouragement to continue writing - yay! I've done so a lot over the end of the year/ beginning of this new one. Just a note that I've pulled from some real life experiences for this chapter. Although the name of the inn is one I can't remember, the layout of the inn itself and the Carsons' room at The Chadwick Arms is indeed just like one I stayed in a few years back in a small village in the UK. And Chadwick is a UK-based coworker of mine. Enjoy and keep the feedback and reviews coming! Happy 2017!

Scarborough was the end of the line. As the train pulled into Scarborough Station and other passengers were already queuing outside their compartment to exit, Charles shifted his body, kissed the top of Elsie's head, then matter-of-factly stated, "Time to move along, Mrs. Carson. We have a reservation to keep." With that, he stood up, put on his bowler before extending his left hand to Elsie to help her to her feet. As she checked her hat, Charles began to gather their luggage. The train now stationary, Charles let Elsie lead the way to the exit stairs where the conductor aided her down to the platform before offering to help Charles with one of the bags so that he could easier navigate the stairs by holding the handrail.

Both now squarely on the platform, Charles voiced his appreciation to the conductor while Elsie suggested she was perfectly able to carry one of the bags to make things easier on her husband. It was just as Charles was beginning to explain that there was to be a driver meeting them at the station that he spotted a young, uniformed chauffeur holding up a small sign that had the name "Carson" printed on it. "Over there, love," Charles nodded in the direction of the driver. Walking toward the young man, Charles could see "The Chadwick Arms" written in a smaller typeset at the top. "We are Mr. and Mrs. Carson," Charles explained proudly. Though both the train and station had all but emptied, the uniformed young man looked Charles up and down, skeptically, replying, "I'm sorry, sir, but the Carsons I am driving are on their honeymoon."

Charles bellowed back, "Indeed you should be sorry, young man, for we are most certainly on our honeymoon! Now, are you taking us to The Chadwick Arms for that honeymoon, or shall we walk?" In an attempt to calm her husband, Elsie gently placed her right, gloved hand on his strong forearm, its muscles firm from still lifting the two suitcases in his hand and the tension throughout his body. "Please forgive my husband's tone, it's been a big day for us, but we are indeed the honeymooning Carsons."

"Oh, I beg your pardon, Mr. and Mrs. Carson, forgive me. I, I just assumed it was a much younger couple - do follow me please. The vehicle is just through the vestibule and out the other side. And please, let me carry your luggage." Still seething at the chauffeur's presumption, Charles gladly handed the young driver whose nametag read "Thomas" their three bags. "That figures," he muttered under his breath.

Elsie enquired, "What was that, Charles?"

Back in the moment, Charles looked down into her soft and adoring eyes, relaxing his own reply. "Nothing dear. Shall we follow the fellow?"

Elsie reached down for his right hand with her left, gave it a good squeeze and smiled, "We shall."

The driver held the door for Elsie as she climbed in first, followed by Charles. The young man stood straight and tall, carefully avoiding eye contact with the stern and robust Mr. Carson. With both his passengers settled into the back seat, Thomas shut the door beside Charles and climbed in behind the steering wheel. "Our drive to The Chadwick Arms will only take a few minutes, Mr. and Mrs. Carson. I hope you will be comfortable." With that, the engine hummed to a start and they were soon pulling out of the station. The gaslights were beginning to take effect along the streets of Scarborough. Shop windows were dark, adorned with familiar printed signs that said, "Closed. Please call again," and other variations on that theme.

The Chadwick Arms as they soon learned was tucked beside a small decorative fountain behind which was a small shopping district. It was by no means the High Street of Scarborough, rather, it had a bit of the feel of a neighborhood. Behind the hotel, hidden in the darkness, was a city park with lush gardens. Two stories tall and with warm, candlelit windows facing the street, The Chadwick Arms was a welcome sight to the newlyweds after their joyous but long day. Thomas stopped the car in the hotel's circular drive, exited the vehicle and opened Elsie's door, helping her out. Charles was in the process of stepping out of the vehicle as Thomas came back around to his side. Waiting until Charles was out completely, Thomas stepped ahead to the front door and opened it for the Carsons to pass. "The reception desk is straight ahead, just past the pub, Mr. Carson, Mrs. Carson. I will bring your bags in momentarily."

"Thank you, Thomas," Elsie replied, while Charles brusquely nodded his acknowledgment.

The pub room just inside The Chadwick Arms had a few tables occupied when Charles and Elsie passed on their way to the front desk. A middle-aged man, slightly built and on the short side was standing behind the desk. He looked up to greet the new guests. "Good evening! You are Mr. and Mrs. Carson, yes?"

"Indeed, Mr. and Mrs. Charles Carson. And you are Mr. Nathan, I presume, the manager?" Charles inquired.

"Yes, welcome. We have of course been expecting you any minute now. It was very helpful that you had advised us of your train number, Mr. Carson. We have our best room for you and have PREPARED it exactly as you requested Mr. Carson. My porter just went up a few minutes ago for the final details. I expect that he will be down any moment and then will bring your luggage up to your room. If I may ask you to sign the register, I will be happy to escort you to the room myself."

Charles stepped to the tall counter and looked down at the register laid out in front of him. The pages were neat and orderly and at first glance reminded him of his ledgers back at Downton. Taking the pen from its holder, Charles was pleased to see a fountain nib. Seeing the tip herself, Elsie rolled her eyes. That alone would be reason enough for Charles to choose this hotel over all other 'modern' ones! That said she already liked what she saw of The Chadwick Arms. It was warm and welcoming, clean, and a fraction the size of the Abbey. She was anxious to see their room and the preparations Mr. Nathan had alluded to. What on Earth had Charles arranged? Surely nothing too risqué, though her imagination began to run wild, her heart beating faster before she took a big, unexpectedly loud breath that caught Charles's attention. "Elsie?"

"Hmmm? Oh, I seem to have been somewhere else momentarily."

"Ah, here is Benjamin now," Mr. Nathan announced as another uniformed staff member descended the stairs. "Benjamin please get Mr. and Mrs. Carson's bags from Thomas and meet us upstairs. I am going to take them up right now to show them their room." Gesturing to the staircase immediately to his left, Mr. Nathan continued, "Mrs. Carson, if you would, please."

Elsie stepped forward and began to climb the stairs, with Charles familiarly falling in step behind her followed by Mr. Nathan. There was a small landing and switchback before they reached the top of the staircase. Greeting her were double fire doors. "Allow me, Mrs. Carson," Mr. Nathan offered, reaching for the handle. "Room 12 will be to your left, at the far end of the hall, right side." They proceeded down the hallway and a short flight of three stairs before seeing the number 12 beside a doorframe. "Here we are, I'll just open it for you," Mr Nathan said as he produced the key. He inserted it in the keyhole, turned his wrist and then grabbed the doorknob with his other hand pushing the door open. "After you, please," as he held the extracted key out to Charles.

"Wait! I was planning to carry my bride over the threshold," Charles announced from behind, stepping toward Elsie who turned her head in surprise.

"You what? Charles, no. That's a very sweet thought but, no, not a wise one. Your knee, your back."

"But it's tradition," Charles proclaimed, as if that would once again be reason enough.

"Charles, I'm afraid I won't allow that. You try to pick me up and I will start kicking and screaming in protest, disturbing Mr. Nathan's other guests and perhaps earning his rebuke, Besides, I'm sure Mr. Nathan has better things to do with his time than stand here in the hallway with us."

Mr. Nathan, smiled awkwardly, privy to this little marital spat as he was. It was harmless compared to some he had witnessed over his tenure as manager.

Seeing the dragon's glare she had fixed on him, Charles waved Elsie ahead disappointedly, then stepped into the room behind her. As Mr. Nathan stepped around them she turned and innocently whispered to Charles over her shoulder, "I will let you uphold tradition in other ways tonight," which stopped Charles in his tracks. Elsie's words replaying in his mind, Charles stood up straighter, tugging once more at his waistcoat, the corner of his mouth lifting into a small smile as the room in front of him came into focus.

Clearing his throat then to regain the attention of his guests, Mr. Nathan continued, "Here of course is the sleeping area," as he gestured to the big, four poster bed near the doorway. The lights on the bedside tables flanking it were turned down low, similarly, the blankets and top sheet were turned down and welcoming in their own right. It was a magnificent yet imposing sight for both Elsie and Charles, to the point where they missed Mr. Nathan's next few words as he continued the tour of their room. " - here to the left, behind this door is your dressing alcove," he gestured. Then, stepping down to where a fire beckoned, "Please, watch your step. Down here on the mid level is your sitting area, and straight ahead, one more step down is the en suite. I trust everything is in ORDER as you wished, Mr. Carson?" He paused allowing the Carsons to both take in the room. Charles did the inventory in his head, fresh bouquet on the sideboard - check, fire - check, Champagne on ice, a tray with an array of cheeses, fruit, nuts and chocolate on the low table between the fireplace and sofa, lit tapers on either side of the tray. All that was as he requested, there was just one more detail to confirm and for that, Charles stepped to the doorway to the en suite and peeked in. Turning around with an approving nod, Charles agreed, "Yes, Mr. Nathan, exactly. Oh, and there is our luggage." At the door, Benjamin smiled and stepped to place the luggage in the dressing alcove.

"Very good, we shall leave you be. I hope you enjoy your stay and please do not hesitate to call upon us if there's anything else you need. Good night, Mr. and Mrs. Carson." Mr. Nathan held the door to leave.

Returning to the entry level where Elsie and the two hotel staff stood, Charles expressed appreciatively, "Thank you Mr. Nathan, Benjamin." Charles extended his hand with some small coins, change from the lemonade back in York to the young porter. He too smiled appreciatively before tipping his hat and sliding toward the door.

"Good night," Mr. Nathan nodded to the couple, before exiting and shutting the door behind him on the honeymooners.

Noticing how she continued to study the room and it's furnishings, Charles stated, humbly, "I'm sorry Elsie, it's not a grand hotel by any means, frankly more of an inn than I was anticipating. Our room is modest and these steps a bit of a bother. No real dining table for our first supper together as husband and wife. You're deserving of more, much more, but, I hope it will –"

Stepping closer, Elsie put her fingers up to Charles's lips, silencing him. Charles could only look at her quizzically. "Charles Carson, are we looking at the same room? It may at best be a DIAMOND in the rough in your estimation but don't forget that I have slept in an attic room for decades. You will hear nothing but gratitude from me for our accommodations, for the flowers, the fire, the food in front of us. You may not realize, I can count the number of times I have slept in a hotel or an inn in the whole of my life on just one hand, and certainly not in a bed like, like that one," she gestured with the opposite hand. "With more than one pillow, no less! Have you? Before you answer that Charles Carson, have you slept in a bed like that...with your wife?" She smiled at him mischievously as she simultaneously dropped her hand from Charles's lips and raised her other one so they both rested along with her forearms on his massive chest. Curling his arms around her back, Charles softened as they looked deep into one another's eyes. They both exhaled "no," before giving way to light giggles.

Charles liked this, he liked the feel of Elsie in his arms, her body warming his own, literally and figuratively. She pecked him on the lips and, much to his disappointment, broke the embrace by simply stating, "I am famished and that fruit and chocolates and Champagne look devine, but I simply must use the toilet, Charles, please excuse me." Elsie walked toward the en suite while Charles longingly followed her swaying hips until they disappeared behind the door. No sooner had Elsie stepped out of view than she exclaimed, "Charles!" and reappeared in the doorway, a look of astonishment on her face. "Charles, did you, did you arrange that as well?"

Charles began to saunter closer, teasingly inquiring, "Arrange what?"

"You daft man, the red rose petals floating in the bathtub."

"There are rose petals floating in the bathtub?" His broadening smile gave him away in an instant.

Shaking her head Elsie continued, "You sweet, romantic husband of mine, how on Earth did you think of that?" she asked, returning to his embrace.

Stroking her back up and down once more, Charles replied, "It's very SIMPLE Elsie, I thought of every way I could show the love I have for you and then relayed on to Mr. Nathan those that he and his staff could help me with. I know how good you smell with a little drop of rose water behind your ear and imagined how lovely it would be were you to bathe in rose petals."

"Oh Charles, you continue to be full of surprises, my darling. But the cold water that is undoubtedly preserving the color in those beautiful petals is much too cold for me to even set a big toe in." Charles looked deflated, prompting Elsie to counter with an encouraging alternative. "Tell you what, my darling, let me use the toilet and you open that bottle of Champagne for us and settle in front of the fire. I will unpack the bottle of rose water I brought along and then come join you, and I will let you try to guess where all I put a drop. How does that sound to you, Mr. Carson?"

"Delightful, Mrs. Carson, purely delightful."


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: This chapter has one (or two) of my favorite lines so far. Guess which one! Thank you reviewers, followers and new faves - you're adding to my newfound fun!

Noticing Charles perched on the front edge of the sofa and lost in thought as she emerged from the en suite, Elsie walked over to him, wedged her legs between his knees and caressed his left cheek, his beard only slightly evident to her touch. She asked, "Do I still have time for that rose water?"

"Yes, please," he anxiously replied, looking up at her. Pointing toward the ice bucket, Charles continued, "I opened the Champagne and will pour as soon as you wish."

"That will be lovely. I won't be long," she smiled while continuing to trace her fingers along Charles's jaw, "but I would like to unpack my other things as well. Whilst I am doing that, perhaps you'd like to freshen up, Charles? Then we can sit down, my love, and enjoy the wonderful food and drink you arranged for us."

Placing his hand over hers, Charles closed his eyes momentarily before opening them again and gazing up at his wife. "Meet you back here in a few, Elsie," he smiled before kissing her wrist.

It was difficult to pull away, but Elsie stuck with her previous plan and retreated up the few stairs to the dressing alcove while Charles headed into the en suite. Charles took off his suit coat and hung it on the hook on the back of the door. Briefly, he couldn't decide what to do next, and flitted back and forth between the sink, his jacket, and the toilet. Then the rose petals floating in the tub caught his eye and he stopped mid stride to stare longingly at them. "Another time, my friends, another time," he thought to himself before turning toward the toilet.

Meanwhile, in the dressing alcove, Elsie opened her suitcase and began to transfer her underthings to the second drawer of the dresser, leaving the top one for Charles to use. She hung the skirt, blouses, and other dress she brought along in the wardrobe. She contemplated changing into her night and dressing gowns but decided despite being a married woman now, she wasn't quite yet ready for them. Besides, she hadn't let down her hair. There would be time still for both. Instead, she simply slipped her feet out of her shoes replacing them with her dainty slippers. "Ah, that feels much better," she thought. Next, she pulled out the tiny bottle of rose water, her hairbrush and other assorted vials and set them on the ceramic tray atop the dresser. She dabbed some rose water behind her ears, at her wrists, even at the top center of her corset. At the last minute she decided on a drop at each of her ankles as well. Staring at herself in the looking glass, she said, "Ok Elsie Hughes Carson, best get on with it now." Taking a deep breath, she stepped back into their broader room. Surprisingly, Charles was still in the en suite, so she walked down and stood by the fire.

On the other side of the en suite door, Charles had just refolded the towel he had used to dry his freshly washed face and hands. Stepping to the door and back, Charles put on his coat. Checking his tie in the looking glass above the sink, Charles gave himself a little pep talk, "Ok Charles Edward Carson, best get on with it now." Stepping out of the en suite, tugging at his waistcoat, Charles was pleased to be met by the faint scent of rose water radiating from over near the fireplace.

In four quick strides, Charles was at Elsie's side, wrapping his arms around her waist and nuzzling behind her left ear. "I missed you, but thank you and your rose water for rewarding my patience."

Giggling at her husband's simple pleasures, Elsie squirmed playfully in his arms until she was able to wrap her arms around his neck pulling him closer. "My man, my husband. I love you, Charles Carson."

There it was, as plain as day. 'Love.' She said it. To him.

Charles stopped his nuzzling to look at her intently. Now stroking her cheek, a catch in his throat and tears in his eyes, he returned to his usual Mr. Serious persona and stated simply, "I meant what I said earlier, at our reception, 'I am the happiest and luckiest of men.' Thank you for becoming my wife. I love you Elsie Carson." With that, he leaned down, shuttering his eyes once he saw her lips reaching out towards his own. Mouth open, longing to meet hers, it was a kiss unlike any they had shared before, full of passion, full of exploration, full of wonder. It took both their breaths away to the point where they instinctively backed away at the same instant, chests rising and falling, their bodies sensing the need to regain their normal breathing. Studying her face from this close vantage point, Charles offered somewhat awkwardly, "How about that Champagne?"

"That would be lovely, Charles." Elsie let him pass to the ice bucket behind her as she fanned herself momentarily. Pouring the bubbly liquid into the two flutes, Charles handed her one and raised the other remaining in his hand. "To my wonderful bride."

"To us. To the FUTURE," Elsie countered clinking her glass against his. The cold Champagne was especially refreshing. "Mmmm, that tastes good. Shall we try some of our supper before I feel too lightheaded and offer up all sorts of silliness?"

Charles thought momentarily about a wisecrack innuendo, but opting to be a gentleman, instead gestured to the sofa, suggesting, "After you, my dear."

Settling on the sofa, side by side, the honeymooners sampled the food on the tray in front of them. As Charles reached for another strawberry, Elsie saw his cuff about to skim the soft Brie. She called out in protective warning, "Charles, your sleeve!" Inspecting his cuff and finding it still clean, she said more calmly, "That was close. Charles, perhaps you should go hang up your suit coat." Finding strength, she continued, "Surely you'd feel more comfortable if you would take your collar and tie off as well? Perhaps change into your pyjamas and dressing gown?"

Shifting his attention and gaze between his wife and the strawberries, Charles suddenly was following her train of thought. "Yes, yes, that's a good idea. Would you excuse me?" he asked as he gently squeezed her knee.

Nodding her reply, Elsie reached for another strawberry for she found them irresistible, just as she did Charles.

Looking back at her as he all but sprinted to the dressing alcove, Charles nearly missed a step but righted himself and continued on his way. Quickly and far more sloppily than normal, he hung his coat, waistcoat, shirt and trousers in the wardrobe and changed into his nightclothes wondering exactly how long this would last, heck, wondering how long he would last. Elsie was clearly encouraging something new happening between them tonight. He went ahead and hung up his fresh clothes as well and unpacked his toiletry bag. Finding the top dresser drawer empty, he laid in his clean undershorts, vests, handkerchiefs and socks. Remembering the small booklet with his boutonnière inside, he retrieved it from his suit coat's breast pocket. Cracking it's spine open once again for a quick glance, Charles closed it before tucking it under his shorts. Moving his now empty suitcase into the wardrobe beside Elsie's large grey one, filling the space, he noticed that her other bag remained untouched and frankly a bit of a hazard.

Opening the dressing alcove door, Charles called out. "Elsie, I'd like to move your small bag from the floor so neither of us trips on it. Is there anything you need out of it before I lift it atop the wardrobe?"

"Charles, I emptied my suitcase earlier and put it in the bottom of the wardrobe. As far as I am concerned, you may put your suitcases wherever you like."

"Whatever are you talking about, 'suitcases' plural?" Charles questioned. "You're the one who packed two suitcases. Heavens, I don't own enough clothes to fill two suitcases even if I packed my cricket whites."

As this was all nonsensical, Elsie stood up from the sofa and met Charles outside the alcove. "Charles, I only packed one suitcase. My old grey one," Elsie said. "I presume yours are the brown ones. The larger one I recognize, and this smaller one."

Charles looked from his wife to the small brown case on the floor and back again. Pointing to it, Charles continued, "I thought this one was yours too. It was unloaded for us at the station, before we boarded the first train."

"Well, it's not mine. Perhaps you should open it, though," Elsie suggested.

"Where? Here?"

"Yes, here, you daft man."

Charles bent over and inspected the small bag. It was lightweight and something shifted inside of it as he moved the case. Leaning it on one edge, he noticed a subtle label attached to the handle. Rotating it further so he could read the label, he did so aloud, "Mr. and Mrs. Carson," surprising both of them. Looking up at Elsie who was now leaning forward over the case as well, he shrugged his shoulders and raised his impressive eyebrows. Looking back down, he then read the reverse side of the tag. "A wedding gift, open privately." Charles tilted the case so that Elsie could read for herself what the tag said. Its text was from a typewriter, so there was no handwriting to recognize.

"Someone's playing a game on us," Charles muttered, pessimistically suspecting Mr. Barrow.

"Someone's given us a wedding gift," Elsie countered optimistically, patting Charles on the forearm to calm him. She had been enjoying her new husband, the one who had appeared on the York platform. She still loved the curmudgeonly one beside her now, and bit her lower lip as she noticed the errant curl hanging untamed on the left side of his forehead. It must have come loose when he bent down for the case. Realizing she now had every right to reach up and tuck that curl back in it's proper place, she did exactly that before placing her hand gently back on the sleeve of his dressing gown. "Charles, ease up please. It's our wedding day and we are on our honeymoon. Why don't we open the case and see what it is that someone has gifted us?" Those simple sentences spoken with affection were the soothing encouragement he needed to forge ahead.

Looking around the cramped alcove, Charles suggested, "Let's take it back out to the sitting area and open it there." Elsie turned and led the way back to the sofa, resuming her seat on the left side. Carrying the case by the handle, Charles sat down then squared the case up on his lap. He unlatched the hardware and gently eased the lid open. Inside was a paper box, about 3/4ths the inner width and depth of the case itself. There was a pale green bow, now somewhat crushed, securing the lid and bottom together. Tied inside the bow was another paper tag that, like the label on the case itself, read 'Mr. and Mrs. Carson' in Courier font. There was no other identification inside or outside the patinaed case. Charles looked at Elsie with uncertainty; clearly neither of them knew the origins of the mystery case nor the package inside it. Determinedly, Elsie reached for the box acting for the both of them, "Gracious, I'll open it."

But Charles was hesitant. "Still, I don't know if that's a wise idea," he opined.

Dropping her chin and looking at him with disbelief, Elsie replied, "Charles, someone close enough to the both of us back in Downton made sure this box and case came along with us to Scarborough. Now, I don't hear any ticking so I am going to assume it is safe to open and intend to do exactly that." She proceeded to slide the bow off the box that was now in her lap, handing the bow to Charles who relayed it to the suitcase on the sofa at his other side. Next, she lifted the lid, revealing some crisply folded tissue paper. Intrigued all the more, she handed the lid to Charles who repeated his earlier motion. Sliding her index finger beneath the tissue, she lifted the top layer revealing the first hints of soft, blue and shimmery fabric. Folding back the second layer of paper, revealed a neckline and thin shoulder straps of a darker blue. "Oh my," Elsie remarked, lifting a silky nightgown from the confines of the box.

Swallowing hard, Charles could only stare at the delicate garment and agree, "Oh my, indeed." As Elsie dug deeper in the box, Charles leaned over to take a closer look. Beneath the nightgown was a matching dressing gown and at the bottom of the box, a sheet of notepaper folded in half. As Elsie held the garments in her hands, Charles reached in and retrieved the paper which revealed another typewritten message that he read aloud,

Mr. and Mrs. Charles Carson  
April 9, 1925

On your honeymoon and ever after,  
Enjoy! -xoxo

Charles hadn't a clue who the giver was, but he liked the person's taste; the fabric accentuated Elsie's eyes as he could plainly see even by the light of the fire and shrinking tapers. He was warming to the gift and was now smiling broadly, partly at the garments themselves, partly at what they represented, but also the fire brewing in his Elsie's face and eyes for it was obviously now her turn to level an ACCUSATION against someone back home. "Beryl Patmore, how dare she!" She fired off. "This is her payback for my sending her in to do the dirty work of sorting through the terms of my marriage." Charles leaned back on the sofa to watch this storm unfold. "She knew my measurements well enough to order my dress from the catalog, of course she just ordered these as well," Elsie surmised, crushing both garments in her clenched fists. Then, a frown. "No, no, that can't be." Repositioning herself to look at Charles more squarely, Elsie continued. "Charles, Beryl spent a week's wages on my simple wedding dress - she told me. Recalling the parcel that had been delivered just the day before, there were no other such deliveries to the Servant's Hall that he could remember now. "She's my friend, our friend, but no, these would set her back all the more, much more. No, it can't have been her."

"Or maybe it was Anna, she might think of something like this. But no, it would be too much for her as well. Or Mrs. Baxter, perhaps Anna and Mrs. Baxter together. That seems more feasible. Or, no! Not Anna and John, Mrs. Baxter and Mr. Molesley - Oh, Charles, who on Earth is responsible for this, these, things?" Looking for a clothing label or any clue to reveal their source, Elsie found none.

"Or was it you, Charles, he who secretly orchestrated all these beautiful and thoughtful details for our wedding night, it could have been you. If it was you, you would admit it, yes?"

Charles raised his hands innocently and shook his head conveying it was not him. Fixing her eyes on him he did not crack. Charles was a terrible liar and on this matter he was telling the truth, it was not him. "Oh, Charles, who was it?" she asked determinedly, as she gathered the fabric in her lap, looking at him with confusion and distress.

Charles chuckled aloud at the flips and turns of her thoughts and mood. Sitting up and putting his arm around her shoulders and giving them both a gentle squeeze, Charles softly kissed her temple. Speaking into her hair, Charles reassured her, "Elsie, whatever does it matter? The gifts are here, we are here, and we are alone - all alone - on our wedding night. That's what matters most to me."

Now leaning into his side and gazing up at him, Elsie sighed, "I suppose you're right."

"Yes, for once, I am right," he declared, reaching his other arm across her stomach and squeezing her waist. "Now, to prove you married not only a curmudgeon but a romantic earlier today," he kissed her temple again, "I think you should go change," next kissing her cheekbone, "into these new nightclothes," and down to her jaw, "that someone graciously gifted us with because," placing his index finger below her chin to lift it up, "I would like to enjoy them. First, on your body and then off." He ended the tour with another deep kiss on her lips, that she wantonling returned. With his lips still pressed against hers, he began to smile. "What say you to that, Mrs. Carson?"

"I say, I will be right back." And with that, Elsie stood and retreated to the dressing alcove, new nightgown and dressing gown in hand.

Despite Elsie's promise to be right back, it seemed like forever to her anxious groom. Charles stood and paced the floor in front of the fire. Noticing the fire was burning down, he stoked the embers and was adding a log when he heard the dressing alcove door hinges. He looked up and imprecisely dropped the log from his hand. There she was, his Elsie as he'd only imagined. Better than he had imagined. He had seen her with her hair down before, though rarely and seemingly in only the darkest moments, like when Lady Sybil died, or the fire spread in Lady Edith's room. This night would be completely unlike either of those.

Standing tall, Charles took in a deep breath and then exhaled slowly and deliberately, furrowing his brow in contemplation as he took in the vision of his wife standing outside the dressing alcove on the top level of their room. She had only put on the nightgown, its narrow straps hanging over her collarbones, neckline falling into a wide, shallow V just above and between her breasts. The shear fabric, hinting of her hardened nipples underneath and the curves of her stomach and hips hit Charles with intermixed feelings of hunger and arousal.

She beckoned to him, "If you're finished with the fire, why don't you come here, my handsome husband?" Grinning ever more broadly with each step he took toward her, Charles was all too glad to pull the length of her body up against his own. "Elsie, you are so beautiful. I love you." Tears in her eyes at the sincerity of his compliment, she blinked them back and leaned her forehead against his strong chest. Feeling the beat of his racing heart, Elsie breathlessly offered, "I recall you saying something about wanting to see me both in and out of these new gowns. Why wait any longer?"

Despite all his bravado moments ago, the prospect of seeing and touching her naked form, making love for the first time in his life - to his beautiful, delectable wife - was suddenly unnerving for Charles and his hand began to TREMBLE as soon as he felt the fine fabric of the shoulder strap and her even finer skin underneath. Hesitating slightly, he changed course and attempted to instead loosen the belt of his own dressing gown. His hand still shaking obviously, Elsie instinctively reached up to help him first with the belt and then the gown itself, sliding it off his broad shoulders. Taking it in her hands, she draped it at the foot of the big bed, blindly, as she wasn't allowing herself to take her eyes off him. Biting her lower lip, Elsie could not resist her urge to reach for the neck of his pyjama shirt and the fine chest hairs teasing her from underneath it. Stepping closer still, she quietly slid her hands over the upper regions of his chest, up to his collarbones, down to his shoulders and back again. "My goodness, he is so solidly built," she silently reminded herself. She needed to see more of him and could wait no longer and thus proceeded to undo the buttons of his pyjama shirt from the top. One by one, they revealed more pale skin and delicate hair in an almost animal-like stripe down the center of him. Breathing in his scent was irresistible to her and the sensation of the soft skin of his chest against her lips was electrifying as she smothered him with gentle kisses and hugged him at the waist. Charles was finding indescribable pleasure from it all as well as he stood with his eyes closed, his other senses heightened. When she began to lick his chest right along his breastbone, it elicited a wanting moan low in his throat.

Suddenly his eyes were open again and Charles looked at her longingly. Having been lost in other distractions, he again noticed the scent of rose water and leaned in to breathe it in deeply while nipping at the soft skin behind her ear. His face was lost in Elsie's plaited hair while his hands wandered down to explore her hips and bottom. She wasn't wearing any underthings. Gradually, he began to gather the fabric between his fingers and thumbs, inching the hem higher and higher. "Elsie?" Charles breathlessly asked. "Only if you are ready, my love."

Words were unnecessary as Elsie let go of his waist and let her hands join his in grabbing hold of the fine fabric and pulling upward.

Soon after, the man and woman who had started the day miles away as Charles Carson and Elsie Hughes together completed their TRANSFORMATION into husband and wife with the first true act of realizing their promise to one another of a full marriage. While others heading to bed elsewhere may have been wondering and speculating about their actions this spring night in the year 1925, it wasn't anything that was announced to the outside world, like smoke at the Vatican or even the Royal Standard flying above Buckingham Palace. No, unless you were below or beside Room 12 inside The Chadwick Arms with a keen ear, or walking the sidewalk across from the hotel and noticed how steamed up the last two windows were on the upper level, you would not have guessed the goings on inside their room. That game was for Charles and Elsie Carson, alone.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Started this chapter while away for the New Year's holiday in a condominium rental. No joke, I attempted to use the toaster, wasn't satisfied with how brown my English muffin was after one round so I sent it down again for another round...only to burn black and smoke! I guess I really am Downstairs Daddy!

Waking far later than normal with the first hints of daylight peeking around the perimeter of the window curtains, the hour nonetheless felt uncomfortably early to Elsie this morning. She recalled that Charles had been chivalrous yet eager deep into his first night and early second morning as her husband. Right now though, he was sound asleep, apparently exhausted from their marital activities together. Instinctively, she bit her lower lip as she replayed in her mind their respective gyrations of fingers, lips, tongues and other body parts from hours ago.

Thinking back though, on the act itself, and the time between when he first entered her and the moment he came undone, she couldn't help but wince. She had looked forward to it with anticipation, was unquestionably turned on by Charles - his body, his words, his rose water odyssey. She felt respected and loved throughout but there was no doubt their first attempt at lovemaking had pleased him more than it had her.

As they progressed, he had asked her repeatedly if everything was alright, if she wished him to stop. Everything had seemed right, with what little she knew, but it hadn't all felt good. She thought so then and she thought it now.

Oh, but she did love her man! The warmth of his body now tangled up with sheet and blankets and spread out over parts of her own; how long had they lain like this, she wondered.

She had dreamt of mornings like this countless times over the years and this morning specifically over the last several weeks. In those dreams she had held Charles in a tight embrace or she in his, either way an embrace that they both sought to prolong for hours. But this morning under the solid weight and frame of her husband, she needed to MOVE. She needed him to move. Her bladder could not wait much longer.

Elsie had attempted to wiggle her way out from underneath her prince charming-sleeping beauty but found herself sandwiched too far into the mattress for that to be successful. Perhaps in time he might roll off, but now, he was still out cold, left arm draped fully over her right hip, his torso half on top of her own, left knee curled around her left thigh, left foot somewhere above yet between her ankles.

She tried whispering his name to no avail; finally she had an idea. The broad expanse of his back was there for the taking. Reaching her right hand to its center and extending her index finger, she touched him gently with her nail. His skin gave ever so slightly under the pressure. She began to slowly trail the same nail across the surface of his skin, practicing writing out her new, married name. As she completed each of the LETTERS, she said them aloud softly. Proud of her cleverness, Elsie smiled broadly, especially when Charles began to stir, somewhere around C.

Exhaling against her rib cage, eyes still closed, he groggily asked, "Elsie, what time is it?"

"I don't know Charles, because I'm right here, you're right here and your pocket watch is, well, somewhere else," she replied, deliberately rolling her Rs knowing that always stirred him.

"Mmmmm, right here, together." Though barely awake, Charles had managed to tease her as he rolled his Rs in return. Although she swatted him gently with her left hand in acknowledgment of his little joke, her right continued to draw the letters on his back. Ever more awake, Charles furrowed his brow and wondered aloud, "What exactly are you doing, love?"

"Writing my name on your back in the hopes of waking you. Now that I have succeeded, I am hoping my dear husband might kindly let me escape our marriage bed."

"No."

"No! Charles please, I simply must use the toilet."

"Again?"

"Again? Charles, it has been hours ago, and we drank Champagne, and well, my body is telling me I need to use the toilet!"

At last Charles opened his eyes and turned his head as his whiskers inadvertently scraped across the soft skin bellow her breasts when he looked up at her. The unexpected scratching caused Elsie to silently mouth the word "Ouch." Despite this latest discomfort he had caused her, Elsie had to admit the combination of morning stubble on Charles's face, bare torso, bottom, and mussed hair was quite an adorable LOOK on him.

Oblivious to the pain his whiskers had just caused, Charles was instead transfixed by Elsie's white breasts and pink nipples falling over to either side of her chest yet just inches from his eyes. "Mmmmm, hello!" he grinned. Suddenly interested in planting kisses on Elsie's ampleness, Charles shifted his weight to prop himself up higher.

Foreseeing his intent, Elsie pre-emptied his strike. "Oh no you don't Charles Carson, not now!" She pressed her left hand up against Charles's cheek and nose and squeezed herself out through the space his postural shift had created between them.

He reached out his left hand to grab her hip but Elsie twisted herself around avoiding his grasp. In mild disappointment, Charles slapped the warm mattress where Elsie had just been. Sliding his right hand up to his temple and back through his hair, Charles propped himself up on his right side and elbow and watched her as she stood at the foot of the bed sliding one arm and then the other into his dressing gown.

"Elsie, that's mine. Why do you need to cover yourself up anyway?"

She was fumbling to gather the belt that had been no trouble to loosen last night. Growing frustrated, Elsie fired back. "One, it's because I don't quite know where my nightgown is that I am putting on your dressing gown in this chilly room of ours and two, it's because one would think the always proper Butler of the fine Downton Abbey would have the decency to cover himself up in his current state of undress that I am modeling good behavior for him to follow!" Gesturing at the length of his bare body, Elsie continued, "I suppose this is what I have to look forward to in the hot SUMMER months ahead!"

So as not to leave him thinking that prospect truly upset her, Elsie did squeeze his big toe affectionately before she bolted for the en suite. Charles did look down toward his feet, though, aware suddenly that the sheet and blankets covered him no higher than his knees. Chuckling now at his observant, plain-spoken, and fiery wife, Charles rolled over onto his back, untangled his legs from the covers and pulled them up above his waist. As he scratched at the hair on his chest he thought, "Oh, Elsie. You are certainly spicing up my life."

Charles was drifting off again when he heard the floorboards creak beside the bed. Opening his eyes, he was pleased to see Elsie disrobing, nothing yet underneath. "My, my with as much room as you're taking up, I must ask, is there room enough for another in that bed?" she asked.

"Only for you my love, only for you." Charles smiled, welcoming his naked wife back into bed by lifting the covers for her to burrow underneath with him. As she inched closer on the mattress, Elsie pulled the covers all the way up to her chin then reached over to cover Charles's far shoulder as well. She let her arm rest on his warm chest, her fingers playing once again with the soft, sparse hairs that had first fascinated her last night.

Turning his head toward hers, Charles studied her as best he could through the faint early morning light. Her eyes were closed again, he knew that.

Sensing his watching her, Elsie instructed him, "Go back to sleep, Charles."

"Yes dear. Your wish is my command, dear."

Oh he was on a silly streak! She snickered softly, patted his chest and snuggled closer before both fell fast asleep again.

When he woke some hours later, it was to the muted sounds of clanging pots and pans coming from the kitchen directly below their room, and his own constitution's cry for mercy. Charles sat up slowly so as not to wake Elsie who was slumbering still beside him. Remembering her earlier lecture, Charles eased into his dressing gown. As he took his first step away from the bed, he felt something soft underneath his foot. Reaching down, he recognized his pyjama trousers. And from this lower vantage point he caught the outline of the top as well and her new nightgown, crumpled together nearby. He lifted all of them up, shook them out slightly and laid them over the bed before stepping into the dressing alcove and gathering his toiletry bag that was resting atop the dresser very near that lovely little bottle of rose water. Pleasantly, the visual trigger helped him realize there was the faintest hint of rose water miraculously transferred onto his dressing gown. Stepping out again, he stopped briefly to look affectionately at his dear Elsie curled up in their bed before proceeding to the en suite.

There they were again, the rose petals, still floating in the tub. He opened the drain before going about his business. Later, when he finished cleaning his teeth, taming his hair, washing his face, shaving his whiskers and splashing on his aftershave, Charles stooped down to gather the petals now clinging to the bottom and sides of the otherwise empty tub. He set one aside on his hand towel before tossing the rest in the wastebasket. He dried the one as best he could, determined to press and keep it, a sentimental reminder of their wedding night. Finishing in the bath, Charles turned off the light and opened the door. Elsie was awake now, back in her new blue nightgown sitting up in bed, arms wrapped around her knees that were together below her chin. Elsie was counting the church bells as they rang in the distance.

Smiling at her approaching husband she commented, "Nine o'clock, Charles, have you ever in your life?"

Sitting down on the edge of the bed and leaning over to kiss her lips, Charles replied, "Never."

Caressing her cheek as their lips parted he continued, "But then I'd never done other things we did last night. Good morning, love." They kissed again, longer this time.

"Mmmmm, I always loved the scent of your aftershave. Did you know that?"

"No, I didn't. But I do now and I will make a point to remember that."

"Please do."

Leaning in for a third kiss, hopeful it might lead to something akin to last night's amorous activities, Charles asked, "And what shall we do today, my dear?"

Perfectly on cue, Elsie's stomach growled. "I guess get something to eat," she giggled.

Charles hung his head. Looking up again, suggestively, "Perhaps breakfast in bed?"

"No, another day, when we are home in our cottage and have nowhere to go, nothing to do, I look forward to spending whole days with you in bed." She reached lovingly out to stroke his newly shorn cheek. "For today though, let's dress and go downstairs for breakfast."

"As you wish." Seeing his disappointment, Elsie leaned over and pecked Charles on the cheek before swinging her legs over her side of the bed.

"Charles, why don't you get dressed while I first clean myself up in the bath?"

"Yes dear. Your wish is my command, dear."


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: A wee bit of research on TripAdvisor and otherwise added some authenticity to a tour around Scarborough. I don't believe that tour would take nearly as long as suggested here, but this is Fantasyland.

Also, I was remiss in my original posting of Chapter 5 to not credit Mr. Jim Carter himself for the postcard message. As the story goes, whilst Mr. Carter and Ms. Logan of course were not needed on set due to the Carsons' unfilmed honeymoon, he sent vintage 1920s Scarborough postcards to DA cast members c/o their characters. This particular message was in fact sent to Mrs. Patmore and, "stayed on set and was filmed quite a lot." For more info, google the PBS podcast. Enjoy - DD

Charles dressed quickly and waited patiently for Elsie to finish in the bath. When she came out of course, she still needed to get dressed.

"Charles, go ahead, please. Get us a nice table, order us some tea, and I will be down in a few minutes."

"I am happy to wait for you."

"I know you are, love, but please. I am not sure how late they are serving breakfast and I don't want us to miss it. If you take a table for us, we will be sure to eat."

"Ok, but don't be long," he winked.

Elsie came down, as promised, a few minutes later to find Charles at a corner table for two, reading the newspaper, a pot of tea and two cups and saucers on the table. A menu was also at her place setting. Noticing her arrival, he stood up and helped her with her chair.

"What sounds good this morning, Charles?"

"Everything. I am hungrier than I realized, he said, pouring her tea, emptying the pot."

"Well, it is so late, perhaps if we eat a hearty breakfast we won't have to take luncheon today."

Just then their waitress arrived to take their order, turning her attention first to Elsie.

"Two eggs poached medium, fruit, and toast with marmalade please. Oh, and another pot of tea when you have a moment."

"Sir?"

"Ah, just to be clear, my wife prefers her so-called toast to be what I prefer to describe as warm bread. Please be sure to bring it to her as such."

"Yes, of course, and what would you like to eat?"

"Three eggs poached medium please, fruit, real toast with marmalade, black pudding and did I see mention of an apple tart?"

"Yes, I will have that all right out for you. Thank you."

As they waited for their breakfast, Charles recapped the news from the paper. He was just asking Elsie about her wishes for the day when Mr. Nathan spotted them and came over to say hello.

"Mr. and Mrs. Carson, good morning to you both. Down for a late breakfast. I trust that means all was well for you last night."

"Very well, Mr. Nathan, thank you," Charles proudly replied, believing he was speaking for the both of them. He cleared his throat as he saw Elsie blush.

"And what are your plans for the day today, if I may ask?"

The couple sought Mr. Nathan's counsel on what local sights to see and agreed that weather-wise, this would likely be the best day during their stay to be OUTSIDE enjoying the natural surroundings. While the Carsons ate their breakfast, Mr. Nathan was drawing them a map which he later oriented them to at the front desk.

"Now, I suggest heading north for Peasholm Park to start and then working your way clockwise over to North Bay, around the Peninsula and finishing at Scarborough Beach. I have also noted a few places you may wish to stop along the way for luncheon, tea, or just people watching. If you do all that, I am certain it will take you the better part of the day, it is quite a bit of walking. If you don't think you're up for it all, then might I suggest I have Thomas drive you to -"

Charles cut him off, "Thank you, Mr. Nathan, we are quite accustomed to a lot of walking back home. I am sure Mrs. Carson and I will be fine with the full route as you have suggested. If not, we just stop and take a rest along the way as you have also suggested. Again, you have been most helpful. Thank you. Now, Elsie, shall we get our hats and coats and be on our way?"

On the landing, out of earshot from Mr. Nathan, Charles scoffed "Have Thomas drive us. I think not."

Elsie just rolled her eyes at her husband and his stubbornness.

Soon, they were out the front door of The Chadwick Arms getting their first true look at Scarborough. Within the first few blocks, the community's celebrated Fair and maritime connections were obvious in the shops. They stopped and window shopped at some and stepped into a few others along the way to Peasholm Park.

They were unexpectedly charmed by Peasholm and it's lovely necklace of ponds and blooming flower beds. They sat beside the lake for some time and Charles fed the ducks the breadcrumbs Mr. Nathan had sent along. Charles's quacking at the ducklings amused Elsie and the young children splashing in the puddles nearby. When Charles looked at his pocket watch and realized it was past mid-day and they were but a fraction of the way through their day trip around Scarborough he suggested they be moving along.

Reaching the shore at North Bay delighted them both for it reminded them much of their magical visit to Brighton that catapulted their feelings for one another. They strolled along, Elsie clutching Charles's arm. Occasionally they stopped, watching a flock of birds or boats on the water. At a souvenir shop, they purchased ice cream cones and picture postcards. Their walk of leisure in the welcome springtime sun was eating away the afternoon.

Mr. Nathan had suggested a tearoom on Sandside, on the south end of the Peninsula. They were pleased to find it open earlier than most. And so they took their afternoon tea and Elsie began writing postcards. First she wrote to Becky, then one to the children at the Abbey. She had plans for four more and one spare. Charles understood the need for the one to Becky completely, the one to the children somewhat, but didn't follow her logic for sending the others to their friends back at home for they would, after all, be back in Downton likely before the postcards' arrival. But Elsie resumed writing after their sandwiches and tea cakes were gone and Charles was growing RESTLESS to get to the beach proper. He checked his pocket watch more than once.

Sensing his impatience, Elsie suggested, "You write one out too, Charles."

"What? Why? And to whom?"

"Anyone, tell them we're having a wonderful time. It's what people do on holiday. Besides, the sooner these are written the sooner we move along."

Charles reluctantly took one of the cards and pulled out his pen. He thought for a moment of the wonderful time they had indeed had last night and he hoped would continue this evening. He began to scribe.

"Here. I wrote someone a message, as you wished," and handed it to Elsie.

As she read the two short sentences, her chin dropped and she quickly pressed the postcard down on the table, picture side up. She was dumbfounded and furious at him. Peeking again at his uncharacteristically sloppy handwriting, she reread the card.

Mrs. Hughes is quite enthusiastic.  
Please excuse the wobbly writing.

Looking around to ensure she wasn't overheard, she chastised him. "Charles, Why would you even write such a vulgar thing?"

"I thought I would send it to Joe Burns, do you have his address?" He tried to look serious for a moment and was succeeding until Elsie saw his mouth raise in the slightest smirk. The terrible liar.

Swatting the postcard against his arm she continued to huff, "Charles Edward Carson, you evil man you. Why, what a terrible waste of a perfectly good postcard. And besides that, what if someone were to see that, what would they think of me?"

"Yes, what would they think of you? The postcard says Mrs. Hughes; remember, you are Mrs. Carson now. The happily married Mrs. Carson," he lifted his eyebrows twice in quick succession.

"Unless I have our marriage annulled."

He sighed. Here he was trying to be less serious than usual and it was backfiring. With his own wife. He reached across the table to cover her hand and give it a gentle squeeze, "It's a joke, Elsie. May we please go now? I am tired of sitting here when the water is so close and there is the prospect of wading in like we did in Brighton."

"Oh alright, but take that postcard with you and PROMISE me you will dispose of it in the rubbish. Honestly." She hardly looked at him the remainder of their time in the tearoom, she was still a wee bit upset with him. While Charles paid their bill, she went to the ladies room. When she came out, one of the tearoom employees was with Charles at the window that overlooked the beach, gesturing down the way as he explained something to Charles. Elsie didn't know what they were speaking about so asked Charles as he approached for them to leave.

"What was that all about?"

"Oh, I was simply asking where the wading area is." He could tell by her tone, Elsie was yet to get over his postcard.

They returned to the boardwalk and walked side-by-side silently toward where the waiter had pointed Charles to. But Elsie did not take hold of his arm. The postcard incident had really thrown some cold water on their otherwise perfect day.

Eventually Charles stopped, for no apparent reason. "This is it Elsie."

"This is what?"

"The wading area."

She looked around, there wasn't a sign or other markings to indicate it, in fact, the beach was empty save for one figure who happened to be walking from the water's edge and approaching them.

It was Thomas, the driver from The Chadwick Arms!

"Mrs. Carson, Mr. Carson, he greeted the couple."

"Thank you, Thomas. You may go now. We will see you later," Charles said calmly and with appreciation in his voice. With that Thomas nodded and continued walking away from the water. "Elsie, your shoes and stockings, please."

"What is going on? Why was Thomas here? What are you talking about Charles?"

"Our blanket is ready," and he pointed toward the water, more specifically to where the person she now knew was Thomas had first appeared to her. And there, stretched out on the sand she now noticed was a blanket and some items on top of it. "Charles, I don't under - " But Charles was now kneeling beside her, the way he would have done in a proper proposal of marriage.

"Elsie, your shoes and stockings, please."

"Oh, Charles," she shook her head gently in disbelief. What had he arranged now, she wondered as she took off her shoes and stockings with his assistance. Then rolling up his trousers, releasing his socks from their garters, and removing them and his shoes, Charles rose, took her hand and walked her to the blanket where he set down his shoes and socks gesturing her to do the same. She still was in shock as they walked closer to the water. There in the wet sand was an arrangement of rocks - a heart with C+E inside of it. "Oh Charles, how did you - " she couldn't go on, her loose hand flying up to cover her mouth as tears formed in her eyes.

"Elsie, I am sorry to have upset you back at the tearoom, but I had to get us out of there. Mr. Nathan had kindly arranged for Thomas to set this all up for us and then wait until we arrived."

Dabbing at her eyes with the handkerchief Charles had handed her, "So this is what you were speaking about with the staff member back at the tearoom."

"Yes, recall Mr. Nathan recommended the tea room. His sister is the manager and she phoned him when we arrived. Thomas drove over then and set everything up in this location that they knew but I didn't."

"Oh Charles, I don't believe you. But I do love you." And she reached her now smiling lips and hands up to Charles's face for a kiss which he gladly accepted.

As their lips parted he asked, hopefully. "Does this mean I am forgiven for my postcard writing now?"

She smiled at him and reached for his hand again and he lead her, steadily, into the water. It was so cold, yet invigorating, as they stood there together hand in hand in water above their ankles.

After a couple of minutes Elsie said, "Charles, I hate to break this spell but the water is too cold, I'm afraid I must get out now."

"Yes, of course, my dear."

This time Elsie led the way. There was a towel rolled up on the blanket to dry and warm their feet and Charles attended to hers before drying his own. He then wrapped one corner of the blanket around her feet. There was also a thermos with hot tea. Filling the cup and handing it to her, Charles explained, "I wanted a bottle of Champagne but there is no glass allowed on the beach."

They continued to enjoy the hot tea, the sea breeze and their togetherness on the blanket, alone on the empty beach, until the WIND began to blow a little harder. Shielding her eyes from the granules of sand, Elsie suggested, "Charles it seems it is time we should go."

He stood, then helped her to her feet, gathered the thermos, towel and blanket. Before picking up his shoes and socks, he walked over to the rocks and picked up one from the C and one from the E and tucked them into a pocket. My he was acting sentimental again, she thought. Both walked to the boardwalk where they re-shod their feet and then continued on back into town to The Chadwick Arms.


	6. Chapter 6

The Carsons left the beach blanket and other hotel belongings with the clerk at the reception desk before tucking into the pub for a warm supper. The light mist that joined them on that final stretch of the journey back was chilling; hot pie, bread and a pint were the order of the night.

As their drinks were delivered to the table, Elsie raised her glass. "Thank you Charles, for a wonderful day and wonderful surprises."

"Cheers, Elsie. I am glad you enjoyed it, as did I. But rest assured, there's nothing else I have orchestrated with Mr. Nathan or otherwise to surprise you. From here on out, we're in it together."

Theirs was a quick meal. Both were feeling tired from all the day's fresh air, exercise and excitement as they climbed the stairs back up to room 12. Elsie even noticed Charles yawning as he unlocked the door, and was glad about that.

"Ooh it's chilly in here," was her first thought.

"Then why don't I build us a fire, and we can cuddle up on the sofa?"

"That sounds like a fine idea, but would you mind terribly if I took a hot bath in the meantime? Despite everything, my feet are still so cold from the water and frankly a little sore from all the walking."

"By all means love, perhaps you'd like a foot massage when you're out."

"Mmmmm, perhaps, Mr. Carson, unless you're too tired."

"Nonsense, I'll be fine."

"Get away with you! We'll see about that."

Sure enough, when Elsie emerged from the bath 30 minutes later, she found Charles had built a nice strong FLAME in the fireplace but he himself was all but extinguished - upright on the sofa in his pyjamas and dressing gown, snoring softly. Poor man. She realized, though, for the second time in the same day that sleep rendered her husband adorable.

"Charles dear, wake up."

"Hmmm?" Not quite aware of his surroundings, Charles looked around. "Oh...Elsie. Time for that foot massage already," he asked, groggily.

"No Charles, I think we should go straight to bed. You were fast asleep not a moment ago. Now go wash your teeth and come to bed. I will be there waiting for you."

"Mmmmm, I would hope so," Charles said as he rose to his feet, yawning.

Under the covers in her new nightgown, Elsie was lying on her right side facing the window when Charles turned off the light and climbed in beside her, spooning against her backside. It was a new sensation for the both of them but it felt natural; they fit well together in this way, too.

"Goodnight love, pleasant dreams," Elsie wished him as he kissed her goodnight.

His left arm finding its new home cradled snugly against her stomach, Charles returned the kiss adding, "You are my dream."

As evidence of their mutual exhaustion, they were both effectively in the same position as morning broke. The same, except that Charles's hand had wandered downward. Being woken by the sound of rain hitting the roof and window, Charles was at first EMBARRASSED, especially with Elsie still asleep, when he realized where his hand was - cupping her warm center. Then he remembered his last words to her and that his dream had so often included to promise of making love to her. Waiting of course to be married, here they were 40+ hours into 'til death us do part and they had only made love but once. Charles was suddenly anxious to change that.

In his friskiness, Charles began to fondle her there through her nightgown while nuzzling behind the ear, rousing them both in different ways. His lips and nose in her hair, the actions of his body around her middle, both front and behind, all together began to wake Elsie, her eyes shooting open at the stimulation.

"Charles?"

"Hmmmm?"

"Charles, please."

"Please what, love," he purred.

"Please stop." It was the last thing he expected, or wanted, to hear but stop he did. Immediately.

Lifting his head off the pillow and furrowing his brow, he inquired, "Elsie, what's wrong?"

She flipped over on her other side dislodging his hand that then moved to her hip. Charles studied her face seeking an answer but Elsie could not make eye contact, could not yet find the words, instead she bit her lower lip. She reached out and stroked his cheek, feeling his dense whiskers. Her hand followed them down his neck and to the soft skin at the top of his breastbone. Still silent, she began to play with the collar of his pyjama top.

"Elsie, what is it? Tell me."

Realizing she would have to tell him sooner or later, Elsie at last took a deep breath and closed her eyes briefly before rolling her eyes. "To use your word on that blasted postcard, Charles, I am not...enthusiastic." Oh, this was going to be difficult.

"Oh?" She shook her head no. "Oh."

His disappointment was immediately palpable. His arm trailed off her hip as he sat up in the bed beside her. Looking down, he noted his arousal had collapsed under this new news. Elsie sat up then too. She felt badly, she wished it weren't true.

He got out of bed, put on his dressing gown and strolled to the window and parted the curtain to see the rain that was so hard at the moment it masked the sound of the morning's church bells. Bad to worse he thought. Elsie hadn't said any more. She just stared down at the spot where he had lain. He thought he saw her wiping away a tear. He sat down on her side of the bed. He reached out for her hand, caressing it at first and then lifting it to his mouth where he planted a single kiss on its back.

Resuming his caressing, Charles said with love and conviction, "Elsie, I have waited for you for so long. Waited for myself, in fact. There are a THOUSAND things I want to whisper in your ear, another thousand places I wish to kiss you, and things I want to do to you. But above all else, I want to do all those things with you. Remember what I said last night? We're in it together. Whatever is wrong, I want to know, I want to help." Sighing, he continued, "Obviously there is more to this and we will need to find a way to talk about it, love. It seems we have nothing but time."

"I'm going to go take a hot bath. Perhaps we can talk about it when I am out." Letting go of her hand, Charles stood up and kissed the top of her head telling her, "I love you Elsie," into her hair. With that, he walked away, noticing her as she clearly wiped away a tear. His heart broke for her, for them.

What had gone wrong he continued to wonder as he stared in the looking glass. Shaving took extra long that morning, as he paused between strokes of the razor contemplating her admission and her tears.

Climbing into the hot bath water was soothing on the one hand and yet excruciating on the other. Just a few minutes ago he thought he was going to make love to his darling wife; now, he sat alone in the bath, a door closed hard and fast between them.

He washed himself and then uncharacteristically, he continued to sit there, lost in a HAZE as he thought back to Elsie's words this morning, to their actions and her encouragement to continue the other night. He still had no idea what exactly was wrong. He didn't hear her knock. When there was no answer, she knocked again and slowly opened the door. Her eyes went to the bath where her man sat in a slumped trance.

"Charles?...Charles?"

"Hmmmm?" Hearing his name the second time snapped Charles into the present. "Elsie!" Attempting to cover himself, he sat up quickly, splashing some water over the edge of the tub in the process.

"It hurt."

"What? What hurt?"

She would have to spell it out for him and walked over to sit on the chair in the corner near the foot of the tub. "You, me. When we...when we made love. It felt...rough."

Animated was his reply, "Oh, Elsie, no. When I asked you -"

"I know you did," she said closing her eyes. It pained her similarly to share this news. "I'm sorry, love, but it was all so new to me and, well, Dr. Clarkson said it might be this way."

He sat up straighter still. "Wait, Dr. Clarkson? You spoke about our marital relations with Dr. Clarkson? When? About what exactly? Why?"

"Yes, Charles, I spoke with the doctor, my doctor, to best be prepared - before the wedding - for what it might be like...after the wedding."

"But, but...we invited him to the wedding, he was in the church for God's sake."

"Yes, and he has seen and touched my body - and your body too for that matter, I'm sure - in very personal places but for professional reasons, and I am sure he will again."

"Well - ," he stammered.

"Well, what?"

A look of concern but consternation on his face, Charles continued. "Well, what did he say? What did you mean by 'it might be this way'?"

"Oh Charles, it's a function of the age of this body of mine."

"This beautiful, desirable body of yours. He reached out for her hand."

Rolling her eyes, she reached forward lacing her dry fingers through his wet ones.

"You see Charles, in a way, it's like our hands right now. My female parts are old and dried out and if they were not dry, well, being in contact with your parts would be much smoother, easier, more...comfortable."

"Oh...oh, I see." Charles thought for a moment. "Would getting your parts wet, in the bath, help?"

She snickered at the sincerity of his thoughtful innocence.

"No, I don't think it would help," she said wiping away a lone tear.

After a moment's silence he clarified, "But it wouldn't hurt?" he asked hopefully.

"Charles Carson, what are you suggesting?"

Leaning toward her all the more, Charles replied, "Elsie Carson, would you come join me in my bath?"

Her hand shooting up to her mouth, she was at first shocked by his proposal. But he was serious, and with that seriousness his mood had shifted from hopeless to hopeful. His love for her was obvious. She began to smile and then stood up, reaching for the belt on her dressing gown. "Yes Mr. Carson, I will join you in your bath." Then she walked over and flicked the lightswitch off.

Charles leaned back in the tub and smiled broadly as Elsie disrobed in front of him, her dressing gown then knickers falling to a heap on the floor followed by her nightgown being lifted over her head before joining the other garments. As she bent over at the waist, and she sought a place to put her foot down between his legs, her breasts pulled down by gravity, Charles extended his hand up to her and smiled, "You can always hold my hand if you need to feel steady."

She looked down at him and did take his hand, shaking her head and smirking both for his gesture now and the memory it sparked. Two could play at this game.

Settling between his legs, she patted him on the knee as she said, "I don't know how, but you managed to make that sound a little risqué," before turning and stretching her neck to reach his lips.

Returning the kiss, longingly, he was glad both that they had avoided a bigger bomb going off and that a falling star had landed here, between his legs, in the bath. "Elsie, here we are, in it, together."

He wrapped his arms around her stomach, holding her close against his chest as they indeed settled in together.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Rounding the final bend on my first fic. Thank you for all the reviews! I started this chapter while visiting my friends who were my spark while tuning in to S6 in January 2016. I was staying in their son's room which doubles as their guest room. His name is Charles and if that wasn't enough to make me chuckle, among the books in his reading pile was one, "The Curmudeon's Guide to Getting Ahead!" Is that kismet?

As the honeymooners blissfully lingered in the bath, quiet conversation, tender kisses and caresses continued - until housekeeping knocked. They had not put the Do Not Disturb sign on the door to their room. Fortunately, Elsie had left the door open to the en suite and she was able to call out to the maid and ask her to come back later.

Hearing the door of their room close behind the woman, Elsie looked back from the door to over her shoulder only to see the mortified look on her husband's face while Elsie herself couldn't help but laugh at their nearly been found together.

Noticing Charles was not laughing, she teased him, "You old booby," and reached up to pull his lips down to hers. Her fingertips contacted the right side of his chin. "Charles?"

"Hmmmm?"

"How did you ever get that scar? You've had it as long as I've known you."

"A bicycle accident when I was a lad," he explained as he ran his own fingers over the scar now. "I was unsteady. If only someone had been alongside me...reaching out their hand," he teased, nudging her with his hip. Noticing how wrinkled the pads of his fingers were, he then held out his hand for Elsie to see. "Elsie, as much as I hate to leave the confines of this tub that we've been sharing, it seems like it's time we best remove ourselves."

"Oh, I suppose so. That's a shame, I have rather enjoyed my time here in the bare arms of my handsome husband, the fine and wonderful Charles Edward Carson." There she was again, rolling her Rs.

"Oh, off with you before I roll something else of yours!" he joshed.

Grinning, Elsie stepped out of the tub, wrapping a towel around her bosom before holding one up for Charles to step into. She helped dry his arms and chest before handing him the towel to finish the job. He slipped on his dressing gown while she remained simply in her towel for the walk to the dressing alcove.

She hung up her gowns in the wardrobe before opening the dresser drawer and stepping into a clean pair of knickers, then unwrapping herself from the towel and putting on her shift. All this she managed perfectly well beside Charles who was also getting dressed in the tight confines of the alcove. But as she began to put on her corset, Charles's eyes were caught by the SILVER metal eyelets as she tightened the laces. He could not help but stare as her body's form was increasingly tamed within.

"Charles, what's got you?" She continued lacing.

"I, I don't know, just you I suppose. And your corset."

He still hadn't looked away, fascinated that he was. "Well, get used to it. Every morning and at night the reverse." He frowned which stopped her progress. "Would you like to help?"

He looked up hopefully and stepped closer, "Show me what to do."

And so she showed him, the bodice becoming tighter and tighter as Charles continued lacing up his wife.

"It must hurt too?"

"Well, it's no picnic. What pain we women don't go through for you men."

His eyes shot up to hers in a look of alarm.

"Charles, I'm sorry. That was unkind."

"Elsie, you know I don't want to hurt you, for you to be in pain, ever. My God when you were in the midst of your cancer scare, I was beside myself with worry. And now you tell me that in our intimacy, I - "

"Shh, shh now," she attempted to calm him by grasping his hands. "I know, Charles, I know. Some things are just the way they are, though."

"But aren't there alternatives?"

"Alternatives? Alternatives to what?"

"Well, alternatives to this for example," he lifted one of the laces.

"Yes, there certainly are alternatives but those things cost money and I am so used to my corset it's second nature."

"Elsie, we have money."

"Yes, so I am beginning to comprehend as of late, even more so on this honeymoon of ours."

"The honeymoon is temporary, Elsie, but if you would be more comfortable in some other undergarments, I'd rather you have them. It's not an indulgence for one to be more comfortable."

"Well, I'll think about it but I don't know how I feel about going into the shop in the village or even in Ripon for that matter and trying on some alternatives as you call them."

"What about here?"

"What do you mean, Charles?"

"I mean, why not shop for...alternatives...here, in Scarborough?"

"Oh Charles, why all the fuss?"

"Well, I think...I think you might like them. And I might like them as well," he muttered with a blush.

"Oh, you wicked man, you!" She gave him a little swat on the arm before giving his braces a little tug. "But Charles, shopping for undergarments on our honeymoon? Let's make the most of this day, the last day before we head home to Downton. We 'll go downstairs and eat breakfast as we did yesterday, then there is some other shopping I would like to do. I would like to find a little something as THANKS for Beryl and the others who so kindly helped us with our wedding preparations. And especially with the space in that extra suitcase we have along with us to fill up," she smirked and looked up to where Charles had placed the case atop the wardrobe. She continued, "Of course, It's too bad I have two nightgowns and two dressing gowns to now carry back. You like the new ones, yes, Charles?"

"Very much so," he confirmed as he checked his tie and coat in the looking glass.

"The ones I packed originally are more pragmatic but hardly worn. Since I don't need two of each, I suppose I will just box up my old ones when we return to Downton and send them to Becky. They're perfectly good and we are close to the same size and she might as well - " a small gasp of shock escaped her lips and her hand flew up to her mouth while her eyes opened wide. She looked up at the looking glass and Charles's own suddenly confused reflection.

Turning around, he asked, "Elsie, now what's wrong?"

Not addressing him per se, she continued to be lost in her own thoughts, eyes flitting to and fro. She seemed to be replaying something in her mind. "Oh...oh."

"Elsie! What is it, love?"

Swallowing hard, she looked him in the eye. "I just...I just realized who gifted me - us - the gowns."

His intrigue was made clear by his raised eyebrows and lower voice, "I'm listening..."

"No, I am afraid you might get upset."

"Elsie," she was dragging out the reveal and he dragged out her name with growing impatience. "Tell me, please."

"Mrs. Crawley."

"I beg your pardon."

"Mrs. Crawley," she repeated, sheepishly.

His brow furrowing, "Mrs. Crawley? Mrs. Isobel Crawley? That Mrs. Crawley?"

She nodded, silently, though biting her lip.

"You believe Mrs. Crawley gifted you the gowns?"

"Us. I believe she gifted us."

He was feeling an uncomfortable pressure building in his chest and with it a shortness of breath. "Why...why do you believe Mrs. Crawley gifted us the gowns?" His collar was starting to feel tight.

"In the past, she has given me some of her old clothing - we too are about the same size. A couple of times when items didn't fit me, but I knew they would fit Becky, she has kindly given me those as well. Charles, Mrs. Crawley knows my size. She could afford those lovely gowns, the case, and she's been kind to me and fond of you. And, recently, after our engagement she and I talked about..." She trailed off. She feared she had already said too much.

Expecting more, bending to hear clearly, he inquired, "Elsie? What did you recently talk about with Mrs. Crawley?"

She shook her head in DENIAL; she didn't want to say any more, she knew he wouldn't want to hear any more.

"Elsie, what is it that you are not telling me?"

She looked to the ceiling. He really isn't going to like this, she thought.

"For the love of God, Elsie, please!" She bit her lip again, harder, and tears began to well in her eyes. Realizing that came out harsher than he wished, Charles in turn grabbed her gently but securely by the shoulders and lowered his eyes to be even with hers, encouraging her to answer him. "Please," he pleaded, moderating his tone.

"Prophylactics."

He turned his head again slightly, as if that would help him with what he thought he heard. After a moment he began to repeat her. "Prophyl - Elsie, I'm sorry, I am not following you at all."

Rolling her eyes she sighed, "Sheaths. Mrs. Crawley suggested we could try sheaths."

"Sheaths?" He stood erect again. "But sheaths are for the prevention of - "

"And...they might help us. Reduce the friction, I suppose."

"Sheaths?" He was letting the word sink in. "Sheaths."

"I knew you wouldn't like it."

"You spoke with Mrs. Crawley, about...our...and our using...sheaths?" Charles looked at her in disbelief. He was beginning to comprehend what he was hearing. Though there was hardly room to do so in the dressing alcove what with the both of them in there, Charles began to pace, in small circles, his palms seeming to squeeze his temples together, fingers digging into his scalp. "Let me make sure I have this straight, Elsie. First, you speak with Dr. Clarkson about our impending marital relations. Then it seems you speak with Mrs. Crawley about the same, AND sheaths no less. Is that correct?"

She rolled her eyes, "Yes, Charles."

He could feel his heart pounding, his blood pressure rising. He took a deep breath and continued to pace, there was no disguising the fury rising within him due to this new KNOWLEDGE. Seeing his distress, Elsie reached out for his hand. "Charles, dear?"

He shook her hand loose surprising her and stepped to the door of their room. "I'm sorry, Elsie, I need some fresh air, now!" And with that he was out the door bolting down the hallway to the stairs. Racing down them as he did made for quite a clatter.

"Good morning, Mr. Carson," Mr. Nathan greeted him cheerfully from the reception desk but Charles returned the pleasantry with a grunt before pushing through the front door. He bolted out and crossed over to the fountain, a passing vehicle nearly hitting him so lost was Charles in his own little world.

Elsie searched briefly for their room key but not finding it, raced down the stairs herself pausing briefly to inquire of the manager, "Mr. Nathan, have you seen my husband?" He pointed out the front door with a confused look on his face. "Mr. Nathan, our room is not locked, but I simply must go find him."

Elsie raced out the front door herself, spotting Charles 30 paces to the right, nearly doubled over, leaning against the fountain, taking big breaths through his mouth. Oh no, was her thought as she ran toward him, he 's going to have a heart attack and die on our honeymoon!


	8. Chapter 8

Elsie ran to his side, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, "Oh Charles, talk to me!"

"Elsie, I fear I am going to be sick," he heaved, speaking to her feet. She bent over pressing her cheek against his temple. He was pale and his skin felt clammy.

"Charles, you need to sit down, my darling. Are you able to walk with me back to the hotel? We can sit downstairs."

"No Elsie, not the hotel, I need air!"

She looked around, past the vehicles whizzing by the little roundabout they were in the middle of, trying to find a safe haven. She noticed off to her right, "Charles, There's a park bench, can you walk with me there?" He reached out his arm and she tucked herself underneath it, turned them both in the direction of the bench and slowly began to walk them there. He looked ghastly. As they reached the bench at last, she begged him, "Please sit down, Charles."

But his was still a downward gaze and he noticed there were small pools of water from the morning rain on the wood slats. "It's wet," he complained. He who had just spent a good hour soaking in the tub didn't want to get wet. The irony.

"Then I shall wipe it dry with your handkerchief," she countered, reaching into his breast pocket. She felt the handkerchief right away but had trouble removing it at first, that blasted new little notebook, she thought. Finally extracting it, she swiftly wiped down a spot for him on the bench. "It's dry now. Sit, Charles," she ordered.

He practically collapsed onto the bench, though opening his torso to thigh angle immediately helped his breathing. She sat down beside him, a very concerned look on her face as she reached out and stroked the back of his neck. The color was coming back to him, if only a wee bit. "Oh, I have a wicked headache," he groaned at last, leaning forward again, anchoring his elbows on his knees and head between his hands. Elsie switched to rubbing large, slow circles on his back. They remained this way for another minute before he began to speak again, slowly and achingly. "Elsie, please help me understand why...why you spoke with Mrs. Crawley about - "

It was obvious he was not just sick but very MAD to learn about the earlier conversation that she as the prospective bride had found so very enlightening. Taking a deep breath, she began very deliberately, "Charles, after learning of your wishes for a full marriage, and assuming that to mean my adoring husband-to-be intended for us to indeed make love, I put down my poetry books and did some research. You know they publish little books, primers on the subject but everything I read either didn't address women my age or suggested there might be issues. And so I made an appointment with Dr. Clarkson."

"Yes, so you have previously established."

She frowned a bit at his interruption but given his state, continued on. "His confirmation that intercourse - "

Straightening the hand closest to her and extending it near his head, Charles begged, "Must you use that word?"

She sighed deeply for it was clear he was being impossible more than anything else; her curmudgeon was back. "Dr. Clarkson confirming I might feel discomfort left me anxious and that was at the forefront of my mind still when I stopped by Crawley House on my way back. Again, regarding some hand-me-downs Mrs. Crawley had said she had for me or Becky. We got to talking, Mrs. Crawley and I, and one thing led to another and - oh Charles she is a nurse for God's sake. And she is a woman of a certain age, like me, and is experienced in these matters, and someone I consider a friend, and well, I confided to her what Dr. Clarkson had said and she advised me that we might try - well, you know."

"But did you forget there's one other thing that Mrs. Crawley is? Specifically, a member of the family?" Lifting his head for the first time to address her more properly, his errant curl was once again hanging over his forehead. "My God, from now on when she comes to the house for tea, for luncheon, or anything else for that matter is she going to wonder - or ask - how we're getting on?"

She rolled her eyes at that one. "Oh Charles, you worry wart, I trust her to be more discreet than that." She reached over and tucked the curl back. They were at least talking civilly again.

"But do you trust me?" he winced.

Taken aback, she found it hard to believe he even had to ask. "Yes."

"Then trust me on what I am about to say, Elsie," he paused, to carefully select his words and find a steady voice. "Trust me as your best friend. Trust me as the man who pledged before God to love you and worship you 'til the day I die." He sighed and briefly looked to the sky for strength. Then he continued. "I do want to make love to you. My God, the entire time we were in the bath this morning, I was on the edge of ecstasy but that was a fraction of the pleasure I felt in making love to you the other night. You in my arms, yours surrounding me, our bodies joined as one, I felt things I didn't even dream were possible. It sent me to the moon, Elsie. I want to feel that again. Again and again and again! Today, tonight, tomorrow - for the rest of our lives!"

Recognizing in her reaction that may have come across more demanding than he intended, Charles continued, tenderly, "Elsie, I understand now that I hurt you and I am so very sorry for that. It is the last thing I want to be the case. Under the circumstances, I respect and support your having gone to see Dr. Clarkson and can now understand why you spoke with Mrs. Crawley also. Based on their counsel, I hope that we can try again, soon, and perhaps with practice we can reach the moon, together. Elsie, it's just I...I would greatly prefer if, should you have further questions or concerns about...about our intimate matters, that you first discuss them with me. Your husband." He sat up straighter, looked at her adoringly, and shared one of his trademark half-smiles. "Your deeply and madly, foolishly in love, husband."

She knew by his tone, posture and term of endearment that he had turned the corner emotionally and was asking forgiveness for his behavior. And was flirting. Past the worry of minutes earlier, she rolled her eyes. She wouldn't let him coast. "Oh, yes, because my husband, Charles Edward Carson, life-long celibate bachelor is the fountain of all wisdom when it comes to inter - , to marital relations." She chose that phrase because of the Rs.

"Oh, you aren't the only one with discreet sources, love," he winked. With that he reached into his breast pocket again and pulled out the seemingly ever-present little notebook. Making sure no one was nearby to see, he handed it to Elsie who was not sure what he was alluding to. She could see along the edge his pressed white wedding boutonnière, and the single red rose petal between other pages. Then she read the cover and realizing it too was a sexual primer, gasped, "Charles!" pressing it into her chest.

"I went and spoke to Dr. Clarkson as well, Elsie. In the hopes of pleasing you." He wrapped his right arm around her shoulders and pulled her tight to his side for a peck on her temple. Looking out over the park, rather than at her, he continued, "But I did not speak with Mrs. Crawley after that," he teased.

She swatted his chest with the primer before tucking her hand into his coat to return the booklet to it's safe place. "Wicked man, you!" And with that they both began to giggle. Charles leaned down and kissed her again, first on the forehead, then the tip of her nose and then, squarely on her lips.

Breaking the last kiss, he smiled and looked at her, hopefully. "Elsie, would you be agreeable?"

"To what?"

"Sheaths."

"My word, you have but one thing on your mind, Mr. Carson!"

"I have only you on my mind, Mrs. Carson. You, who haven't answered me."

She thought about it a moment and then smiled at him and nodded mildly in the affirmative, "But you - "

"No, no. I'm fine with sheaths."

She was surprised. "You are?"

"Yes. Especially if they mean I won't get you pregnant. I don't know how we'd afford a new home and another mouth to feed all at the same time."

"Ha ha, my silly husband." Turning serious again, she added, "But Charles, if I still have discomfort, Dr. Clarkson advised there's something we could get from the chemist. I just don't like the idea of a chemical as a first step."

"I understand and am in agreement." They sat silently for a moment, then he suggested, "Elsie, let's go back."

"Yes, let's go back, we haven't had even a drop of tea yet this morning."

"No Elsie, home. I want to go home to Downton. Today."

"But our room here, and Mr. Nathan! Our plans to visit the maritime museum, our train tickets for tomorrow."

"But, but, but, I have one but; we are not going home but until you shop for those new underthings we discussed. With no baby on the way, remember, we can afford them. What do you say, Elsie, home to Downton, to our new cottage, new life? Together with no postcards to send or housekeeping to walk in on us?"

"What do you have against housekeeping?" she glared, mockingly.

"Nothing at all, I just want to keep house - with my wife."

"Ok, we'll go home today. We can go to church in the morning and - "

"No."

"No? You always like to hear what Reverend Travis has selected."

"Not tomorrow, I want tomorrow to be one of those days, as you said, when we are home in our cottage and have nowhere to go, nothing to do, and we spend the whole of the day in bed. Together. With our not returning to work until Thursday next, we could do exactly that for a few days, in fact."

"Well, Mr. Carson, seems you have it all planned out for us."

"Are you in agreement?"

She smiled, "I am," and then bit her lip as he took her hand.

They walked back to The Chadwick Arms, explained their early departure to Mr. Nathan, assuring him that they would look forward to another future stay. They went upstairs and packed while Mr. Nathan drew them another map, this one from the hotel to the train station by way of a ladies' intimate apparel shop Mr. Nathan knew to be a little "secret" with the discerning women of Scarborough, Victoria's.

Along the way to Victoria's, they stopped in some other shops and picked up some small gifts for others back home as Elsie wished. When they arrived at Victoria's, Charles found the window display a little risqué but agreed to at least step inside with Elsie. He wasn't there very long, surrounded by all sorts of ladies' underthings, when his collar was starting to feel tight again, and his forehead to feel warm.

"Elsie, I think it best that I go get some air again. Do you mind if I leave you be here for a bit, with our cases? I will walk ahead to the station and exchange our tickets for today. Surely by the time I do that and return you'll have picked out some nice...things...for yourself?"

"As you wish, Charles, but before you go, tell me which color do you prefer," she gestured at the garments displayed. Her question forced him to look at them. Again his collar was becoming a bother.

"That color," he pointed but looked away, quickly.

"Nude? I'm a little surprised, Charles."

"They call that - "

"Nude, Charles." She smiled. He was so adorable when out of his comfort zone. She would have to pull him there more in the days ahead.

"Yes, that color. Elsie, I will be back." Hoisting the new travel case from Mrs. Crawley, he addressed the young saleswoman. "Miss, make sure my wife fills this up with new, er, garments." And with that he handed Elsie a large note, kissed her cheek and was thankfully out the door heading to the station.

"So, where shall we start? What would you like, ma'am?"

"I don't know, they're all so lovely," Elsie marveled.

"Well, perhaps think about when you expect to wear your new undergarments."

"Well then, something comfortable, more comfortable than my corset, pretty and feminine, yet nothing too FORMAL. I suspect I will wear these things not to work but for days at home," she smiled, "Days where I have nowhere to go, nothing to do."

Charles continued with a bit of window shopping on his way to the station, stalling some so that Elsie could finish her shopping at Victoria's and he wouldn't have to be in there long upon his return. He found the station, had no problems exchanging their tickets and was pleased to learn that with the next train to York about to depart, they would actually be on the one after, allowing them to have a leisurely lunch first. He had just turned away from the ticket window when a voice nearby called to him, "Mr. Carson? Is that you sir?"

The young man who called his name did not look familiar to Charles. "I'm sorry, I don't recall from where I should know you."

"Yes, well, that is understandable. I am Geoffrey Perkins, Mr. Carson, I met you and your wife on the train the other day, I was in the compartment when you boarded at York."

"Oh yes, of course, how are you, Mr. Perkins?"

"Very well, Mr. Carson, and you? And where is Mrs. Carson?" he asked hopefully.

"Ah, down the way. Some last minute shopping here in Scarborough before we head home. How on earth did you recognize me and what are you doing here in Scarborough, I recall you exited the train somewhere shortly after York."

"Yes, well, I was coming from having just asked my future father-in-law for his permission to marry his daughter. It made your mention of being on your honeymoon memorable for me the other day."

"Ah, congratulations, young man. Wise choice to get up the courage to ask your girl at your young age."

"Thank you, Mr. Carson, I can't imagine my life without her. Any other advice, from a married man, that is?" he nudged Charles.

Charles thought for a moment, then replied, "Treat her like a SNOWFLAKE."

"A snowflake?"

"Yes, recognize there will be wonder whenever you see her, that she should be treated delicately, but do not underestimate her power, and above all else, remember she is truly one of a kind and therefore special."

"That's lovely, Mr. Carson, I will remember that always. I am afraid I must board the train to York now, please give my regards to Mrs. Carson."

"I shall, Mr. Perkins, thank you and good day - and good luck!"

Charles knew the coincidental meeting would please Elsie when he told her. As he strolled back to Victoria's, his mind was on pleasing Elsie in other regards and so, when he saw a sign for a shop he hadn't noticed earlier, he impulsively stepped inside. It was different than Victoria's in every regard and yet, he felt uncomfortable in there as well. And so he left, quickly. Forgetting he had previously decided to stall on the journey to and from the train station, he rushed back in to Victoria's. Elsie was standing at the till, her new purchases already tucked away in their case.

"Oh Charles, excellent timing. Do you have our train tickets for today?"

"Yes, yes, no problem at all."

"Good, and what time is our train?"

He looked at his pocket watch, "Half one."

"Oh good, enough time for lunch then. No breakfast is catching up with me."

"Yes, I was thinking the same. Are you all finished here?"

"Yes, and I think you'll agree with my purchases."

"I am sure I will," he grinned, cheekily.

"Thank you Ms. Rookley. Your help is most appreciated," Elsie nodded.

"I hope you will both enjoy them," the young woman smiled. Elsie was sure her innuendo would make Charles blush but he appeared unphased; maybe he was growing accustomed to being a married man.

They walked along toward the station, a little faster than Elsie was expecting given they had just under two hours before their train to York would depart.

"Oh, Charles, one last stop before lunch please. There's an apothecary shop. I would like to get some more rose water. It will just take me a minute."

"This apothecary?" he thought, uncomfortably. Oh why this one, it was the one he had exited not 15 minutes prior. "Elsie, I am sure there's another one closer to the station."

"Nonsense, this one is right here and we don't need to look for another. If for some reason they don't have rose water here, then we can go on to another."

Her gloved hand was about to grasp the door handle when he stopped her.

"Elsie, please don't go in there."

"Charles, as I said it will just take me a minute."

"No Elsie, please, not this one."

"Charles, you are making no sense right now. Why not this apothecary?"

Shoe on the other foot for once, Charles rolled his eyes and mumbled something.

"What dear? I couldn't hear that."

This time he rolled his eyes again but spoke louder, "I was just in there."

"So?"

"I was just in there buying something."

He was acting strange again. "And?"

"I was just in there buying...these." He waved her closer, encouraging her to peek in the right flap pocket of his overcoat.

"Sheaths!"

"Shhhhh, Elsie! People can hear you!"

She now noticed his pocket was bulging, the left one too!

"Charles, my word, how many did you buy? There's enough to last us until WINTER!"

"I hope they don't last that long; I hope they don't last us until Thursday!" he grinned and leaned down to kiss her.

"My, my another public display of affection. Are you really Charles Carson of Downton, in Yorkshire?"

"The one and only, at your service!"

"Well, it would seem I don't need any rose water to light your fire. Therefore, if you would kindly escort me to lunch, Mr. Carson. It seems we will both need our energy for the days ahead, together, in our cottage."

With that, she turned away from the door to the apothecary and Charles extended his elbow which she grabbed happily. The two contently walked on, together, toward the station and their future, together.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

That's it, my first fic is in the books! Thank you all so much for reviews and encouragement over these few weeks of postings and especially to ChelsieSouloftheAbbey for your behind-the-scenes FanFiction navigational coaching! All of it is SOOOO appreciated. The process of stretching my creative muscles has been fun but the interactions have contributed to it for certain. It really did feel along the way that we are in this, together. Thank you!

By way of the reviews, it is clear that you all want Chelsie to have some more fun, and would liked to have seen it in this fic, but given my first go around it was hard to stay true to my original vision and incorporating the prompts and other constraints. Fortunately, there are, ahem...alternatives...and given that I'd like to see the kids have more fun too, over the last week the theme and title of my next fic has come to mind. I promise LOTS of frolicking fun for Chelsie in my next story. Stay tuned for...The Newlywed Games!


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